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And Sanselme ran as if he were in a dream. He saw the carriage stop at last, and he heard violent blows upon a door. And then he entered as well as the others, and appeared on the scene just as Benedetto leaped from the window. Sanselme beheld Jane, and in that moment of agony his broken, bleeding heart loosed its grasp upon his secret, for he cried out: "Jane! my daughter! My beloved daughter!"
He had been looking intently at the spot where he had seen Benedetto disappear. He saw the man's shadow again, but it was not alone. With it was something white, that looked like a spectre. And the spectre was gliding over the ground in the direction of the wreck on which Sanselme was crouching. What was it?
I beg you to confine yourself to writing your prescriptions, and I will see that you are paid." The physician was impressed by the tone in which these words were uttered. He wrote the prescription and went away. Then Sanselme said he would go for the medicine. He was absolutely livid and could hardly stand.
"Upon my word, Sanselme, it seems to me that you carry matters with rather a high hand. Suppose I do not obey you?" "Then I will denounce you, with the certainty that my arrest will follow yours. You may laugh when I say that in spite of my shameful past I am to-day an honest man, devoting my whole life to a creature who has no one but myself in the world.
"She was my mother, I tell you, and I punished her as she deserved, for I killed her!" "Horrible! Horrible!" And the wretched man who listened to these words wrung his hands. "Yes, and here is the proof." Benedetto drew from his pocketbook the paper on which Sanselme had written the lines he had dictated. "Read this," he said.
"And why?" answered Sanselme, drearily. "You and I have nothing in common." "I don't know that!" "Listen to me for one moment. Our respective positions must be distinctly defined. Fate brought us together Fate separated us. Neither you nor I desire to awaken all these terrible memories. I now bid you forget my very existence " He stopped short. Benedetto had laid his hand on his shoulder.
"Am I dreaming?" murmured Sanselme, hiding his face. "Can he really ask such a question?" "Do you remember the little house behind the church?" "Yes, yes, I remember." "A certain person of my acquaintance had a little business to attend to in that house. He was successful, and he carried off a million." "I know nothing about that!" cried Sanselme, eagerly.
"Send her here to sing for us." But the stout woman opened a door and Sanselme laid his burden on the bed. It was a sordid room in which he found himself. On the dirty walls hung some colored prints of doubtful propriety. On one was a dark stain, as if a glass of wine had been thrown upon it. "Let me take off the quilt," said the woman, extending her hand to remove the ragged covering on the bed.
Sanselme glanced at the trunk that contained his scanty means. "Precisely," said Benedetto, "a few louis and two or three bits of paper." "I ask nothing from you." "But I offer these." And Benedetto took from an elegant portfolio ten bank notes of one thousand francs each, and spread them out on the bed. "Write what I bid you and this money is yours." Sanselme turned very pale.
The next day Sanselme laid the poor woman in her grave. Then he said to the girl: "I knew your mother. Before she died she made me promise never to desert you. Will you come to me?" Jane Zeld was utterly crushed. She had no will of her own. Where else could she have gone? She felt herself surrounded by a circle of crime.
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